


dead in the middle of the C-O-double-M-O-N

by gaygoroakechi



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: ...maybe it will be omg, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, MAYBE THIS IS SLOW BURN? MAYBE?, Rating May Change, akira has a nervous stammer, akira is a newspaper boy, dadjiro is akiras boss, disease and pestilence bc wow historical relevance, goro has a hearing problem but tries to hide it (shows up in later chps), goro lives in a mansion (will be explained), gross misuse of chamber pots, guess the time period from the small allusions i placed lol, he comes in later on ok but, i just want a victorian au, not bumping to explicit or anything just there may be violence and stuff later, phantom thieves but instead theyre petty thieves and stuff - Freeform, pretend the whole cultural thing isnt a thing for me please, ryuji is a tosher, shido is a dickhead, so i might bump it up to a teen/mature rating, so maybe teen or mature at most, tags update as we go along ok, they are all still poc and everything they just live in london thats what i meant by the 4th tag, total jane austen level of pining (planning for it to be like that lmfao), yet ANOTHER au guys im SORRY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygoroakechi/pseuds/gaygoroakechi
Summary: Obligatory Victorian Persona 5 Shuake AU because I think it's fun (also I'm bored out of my mind in this place)!In which Akira is a newspaper boy with a secret double life and Goro is a lonely stepchild in a regal mansion and their paths cross (for better or for worse).
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. The Daily London (Chapter One)

**Author's Note:**

> LMAOOO ok so i like those stupid british novels and stuff right i love the stuffiness and weirdness of that time period its just so interesting so i had this idea, im sure its been done before but hey why not! i did research as i went along since i was curious it was fun to look this stuff up as i went along lmao

Akira had always thought London was a horrible place. The city was dank, grimy, and filled with rats and vermin that spread disease. Everywhere he went, he saw caskets being driven out on the cobbled streets, a stark reminder of how harsh life was here. 

He was from the country; he had been kicked out of his home after being told by his family that they couldn't support a growing young man, not when they barely had enough to feed the cows. Akira missed the fresh, wild air of the sloping green hills and the clear blue sky of the North - London was practically the opposite in every way. Here, the air was pungent, rank with the reek of emptied chamber pots and spoiling food. Pestilence had spread through the city, the miasma reaching into every nook and cranny of the sprawling metropolis.

Akira tugged on his cap, biting his tongue. He couldn't afford to be distracted on the job. Delivering newspapers sounded easy enough, but he had to be quick on his feet and pay attention so he wouldn't miss any houses or be crushed by the carriages in the crowded streets. He couldn't afford another docking of his pay (the first thanks to having to support Morgana, his cat) or injuring his feet. Akira had to be able to buy food for himself and Morgana, and pay the landlord’s daughter his share of the rent. 

Rent had increased  _ again, _ much to Akira’s dismay, due to the growing demand for open space, no matter how small it may be. He and his friend Ryuji, a guy he met on the streets on his second day in the city, had both pooled their earnings to share a miniscule room in a packed apartment complex. Compared to the countryside, the city was hell, but at least Akira didn’t have to worry about people knowing him here. It was a small price to pay for semi-anonymity. 

Akira hobbled along the winding roads to his next drop-off, landing along the upper-class sections of the municipality. The streets were smoother and less congested here, so he saved this route for last so he could give his weary feet a much-needed break. Morgana clung to Akira like a small infant, so he was forced to carry the cat  _ alongside  _ his already-heavy paper deliveries... By the time Akira was done with his rounds, his back ached like hell and his shoulders sloped downwards from the weight.

The first few times Akira had come to this section of the route, he was left awestruck by the sheer opulence of the housing of the richer class. He had never seen such luxury in his life, and could only imagine what the  _ inside _ of those beautiful buildings entailed. Jealousy burned in his gut at the sight, but he pushed it down.  _ Focus on the job,  _ he reminded himself sternly.

He finally reached the last house of the route, which was a grandiose mansion that was sculpted with marble and possibly even brushed with gold leaf, with steep arches and weathered brick, with a hulking gateway at the front. Akira had just made his way to the gate to drop the paper off into the mail-slot when the massive stone structure opened with a sharp  _ clang. _

Akira jumped back by pure reflex, dodging the huge doors. Behind said doors, was a man. A young man, to be precise - he couldn’t be more than Akira’s age - with chestnut hair and piercing reddish-brown eyes had answered the gate. The young man had a scowl on his face and was patting down his sleek trousers indignantly.

“Uh,” Akira said eloquently, grasping a copy of  _ The London Daily. _ “How can I help you, guh-good sir?” He asked, stumbling along the final part when the boy’s bothered expression only deepened at his query. 

“I don’t know, how  _ can _ you help me?” The lad inquired sharply, folding his arms and scrutinizing Akira. “I believe this household  _ specifically  _ requested an opt-out from  _ The Daily Times." _

Akira couldn’t help it. “Sir, this newspaper is the  _ The London Daily-" _

“I, quite frankly, don’t give a damn! Why are you here?” The boy threw his hands up in anger.

_ Wow. These posh folk sure were something else, _ Akira thought. 

“I apologize  _ deeply _ sir, it won’t, won’t happen again.” Akira clutched the paper harder, stammering. 

The brunette sighed deeply, bringing his gloved hand to his forehead and clenched. “I see. Do make sure that this doesn’t occur again in the future."

"But,” He said, taking out a small leather bag and rustling through it. “Here’s a few pence for your troubles. Don’t tell my father,” He mumbled the last part out, looking furtively behind his shoulder, and pressed some coins into Akira’s hand.

Akira couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Do tell, what is your name, sir?” 

The boy pasted on an obviously fake simper, and replied in a flat tone, “Goro Akechi.”


	2. Daily Pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira daily shenanigans... Some of this is mainly world-building and stuff, so bear with me! Futaba and Dadjiro make appearances in this one. ;]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again this is so much fun i get to research this stuff that probably has no relevance in 2020 but guess what its FUN and ENJOYABLE and i will make references and you will LIKE IT

Akira gaped dumbfoundedly, shocked at hearing the name of one of the most prominent aristocrats in the nation. He was talking to _the_ Goro Akechi, one of the youngest members of the noble class. 

Akira immediately knew he could never see this man again. It was bad enough that he, a simple paperboy, had bothered a nob, but to have hassled _Goro Akechi_ was practically a death sentence. 

“Don’t worry about it, please.” Goro says, shoulders slumping. “I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t reprimand you any more than I have already.”

“But uh, uh, I,” Akira tried to formulate words, his meek voice quivering. Damn it, Goro was going to be even more furious at his forbearance. 

Goro bit his lip. “Don’t be so diffident. Just go now. I’ll pay you more to keep quiet about my location if necessary.”

Akira blinked. Then he pushed the newspaper into Goro’s hands. “At least take this… My boss will see if I missed a house. He tallies the deliveries,” He explained hurriedly, stepping back. It was true; Mr. Sakura was a stickler about deliveries, since the printing was expensive and got mad if time was wasted delivering papers that would never be read. 

Goro’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as if he were about to protest further, but instead, he nodded mutely. Akira watched as his sleek black gloves gripped the paper tighter.

“Go.” Was all Goro said, and Akira wasted no time in complying. Akira hurried down the paved street of the upper-class, heart thumping in the brisk chilliness.

Had Akira looked over his shoulder, he would’ve seen Goro’s stunned expression and widened eyes, alone with a copy of _The London Daily_ in his hands.

When Akira made his way back into the familiar cobbled streets teeming with people and goods, only then did he let himself take a deep breath. Morgana was still in his bag, much to Akira’s surprise, and he meowed angrily at being jostled around so much. Akira laughed in shock, took off his cap and ran his calloused hands through his thick black curls. 

He had just spoken to Goro Akechi. 

He had to tell Ryuji immediately. Mr. Sakura would undoubtedly be cross at Akira’s tardiness though - it was almost noon, and Akira was due at eleven to check in for his daily pay. Akira weighed the options in his head, and groaned. Ryuji could wait. Akira needed to be able to pay his share and manage to save enough for food. Mr. Sakura had set him up, after all. The kind old geezer had taken pity on Akira’s situation and shown him and Ryuji to a place that wasn’t overflowing with pests or falling apart.

Akira made his way through the throngs of passersby and businesses, and stopped when he reached his destination - a tiny old shack with a printing press adorned with a sign with the metal engraving _London Daily._ He rapped on the door twice, and an orange-haired girl poked her head out from behind the counter. 

“Hi, Akira!” She chirped, fiddling with her soot-covered hands. 

“Good morning, Futaba. Have you seen Mr. Sakura around?” Akira asked, clutching his grey cap. 

“He’s out in the back… I had to clean out the fireplace, if you can believe it! You’re tardy, by the way-” She chattered on, waving her arms animatedly. Akira sighed and plodded to the back of the room, peering around for his boss.

“Hey, kid.” Mr. Sakura said roughly. “Yer’ late.” 

“I know, sir. I’m sorry.” Akira knew Mr. Sakura wouldn’t care about what happened - he hated excuses, and would be even more irritated if Akira tried to explain. The man exhaled, wiping his ink-covered hands down on his striped cotton apron. 

“Well, at least ya’ got them all delivered. Might as well give ya’ yer’ pay. Least I can do.” 

Akira tried not to beam excitedly as Mr. Sakura grabbed a jar, and reached in to take out Akira’s daily wages. 

“Now, don’t waste it on all on sweets,” Mr. Sakura said fondly, even though he knew Akira wouldn’t dream of doing so when he had much bigger things to worry about. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yer’ a good lad, I’d hate to see ya’ end up in trouble.” He says, rubbing his beard in thought (and getting ink smeared on his chin in the process). 

“I know, sir.” 

“Well, that’s all fer’ today. Go talk to yer’ friend, that blond haired lad, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Akira repeated for the umpteenth time. “Have a good day, sir.”

“You too, kid.” Mr. Sakura mumbled as Akira turned away to leave.   
  
Akira grinned, knowing Mr. Sakura meant well, and that he truly did care about Akira. Sometimes Mr. Sakura felt more like a father than an employer. Akira said his good-byes to Futaba, and left with his earnings in his pockets.

Ryuji was waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always comment/kudos/etc if you liked it... gimme that sweet sweet constructive criticism/feedback


	3. A Hard Day's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another small-ish chapter making out the setting! This time you get to see Ryuji! I suggest you look up the terms for some words that may be archaic today, especially Ryuji's profession. This also narrows the time down further, so at this point you can possibly guess what year this is set by now. I'm on a bit of a writing mood right now, so that's why there's a recent splurge of posts after a few dry months... The plot will pick up soon, I swear. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for unsanitary... this goes into some detail about how much london sucks also mild warning for absolutely terrible bri'ish accents god im so sorry

The city was beautiful, he thought. Even here, in the slums, where the stench of raw sewage suffused through the streets. Every so often, Akira had to pull out a rag to wipe down his raggedy shoes - it was pretty nasty in the lower sections, where the sidewalk dipped and the muck collected in piles. But yes, he thought, it was still beautiful. The buildings were put together haphazardly - some parts wood and some parts brick - all bearing strung lines of wet laundry flapping in the wind. He wondered what Ryuji thought about the city. Akira’d never asked him before. He mulled it over in his head as he trotted through the squalid pathways that lead to their home, which was located in the epicenter of the slums. 

There was a certain allure to London. It was foggy and grey, downtrodden with the weight of millions of people crammed together on its back. Some of the buildings stooped as if they were carrying the weight of the sky, leaning so much towards Akira that he hurried past them. Akira wasn’t quite sure what attracted him so heavily to London, even if it was the only available option. Perhaps he was just a romanticist like Boss had said. 

As he walked, he passed hundreds of people, some huddling together to conserve heat and most coughing extensively. Akira walked by one person who he wasn’t quite sure had life in them still, slumped against the stone wall. The air was thick and smothering, choking all the city’s inhabitants with a noxious odor. 

Akira tried his best to breathe through his mouth. He couldn’t afford to get sick. He couldn’t afford to spread it to Ryuji, either. Ryuji worked as a tosher - an already dangerous and heavy-labor job. It raked in a hefty six shillings a day, so Ryuji argued that it was worth it, very much so. Akira was pretty skeptical, but there weren’t exactly a plethora of options to choose from - especially not for the slum-dwellers - so he eventually caved. It still bothered him. It bothered him that his best friend had to search the shitholes of London for bits of copper and gold just for them to scrape by. Akira tried not to think about it too much. 

He came to a halt, having finally reached his destination. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Crows gathered beside him, pecking at the corpse of some poor creature crushed by a carriage. Akira grimaced, sidestepped the mess, and started to quickly ascend the stairs. Akira heard more than a few rage-filled yowls from inside his bag. He sighed as he finally reached their “door” - honestly a piece of glorified cloth - and slid it open. 

“Hey ‘Kira!” A loud voice boomed through the dank room, jubilant at Akira’s arrival. “How was work?” 

Akira sighed yet again, and flopped down on the makeshift chair they had pooled their leftover earnings to buy. He pulled Morgana out of the bag, where he promptly fled, undoubtedly to some cranny. “Tiring. But you’ll never believe what happened today. I didn’t get to tell ‘Taba or Boss, but it’s pretty incredible.” 

Ryuji popped out from the side of the room where the tub resided, fresh from his wash after his shift. His scruffy black hair stuck out here and there, creating what almost looked like tiny spikes on his head. 

“What happened! You can’t just let that slip and ignore it!” He waved his hands around wildly and plopped into the other side of the small chair.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal…” Akira teased, wanting to see how long Ryuji’d wait.

“Just say it,” Ryuji wheedled. “C’mon, ‘Kira!” 

“I met Goro Akechi.” Akira said, finally dropping the bomb.

Ryuji went silent. Then, his eyes widened as big as saucers. “You mean, the Goro Akechi? Mister Akechi? The dashing aristocrat son of the influential Mister Shido?”

“Yes,” Akira admitted. “He was on my route today. I dropped off a newspaper at his house.”

“Did he say anything? Was he as much of a charmer as people say?” Ryuji asked impatiently, brown eyes shadowed in the gloom.

“Yea, he told me off jolly well. Said he opted-out of the _Times,_ and just about chewed me out. I apologized well and good,” Akira broke off, glancing in the other direction. “But I left the paper with him anyway since Boss tallies the deliveries. Then I’ up and left.” 

“Holy smokes!” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Exactly.” Akira finished off. “So, that’s all? Other than quite a bit of extra earnings...” He noticed his confidant looked conflicted, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Nothin’.” Ryuji shakes his head quickly. “You should go freshen up in there, though - God knows it was a right mess gettin’ up to here.” 

And so Akira did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know london sucks but akira is a country kid so hes kind of getting City Shock i guess


End file.
